


His Little Spy

by LichQueen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Slow Burn, Well...slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LichQueen/pseuds/LichQueen
Summary: She was the Winter Soldier's target—marked for death—but the situation changes when the Soldier breaks his programming and spares her life. Why? She doesn't know. All she knows is that she's running for her life, struggling to make sense of memories from a past that she didn't know existed. She's convinced that the Winter Soldier is the key to unlocking her past, but will she be able to get through to the man beneath the machine that HYDRA created? Or will the Winter Soldier hunt her down and complete his mission?





	His Little Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier is activated. You are his target.

**HYDRA Base—Location: Unknown**

"Rise and shine, soldier. We have a new mission for you."

Alexander Pierce spoke firmly—confidently—as he sauntered into the compound, a hand tucked into the pants pocket of his tailored three-piece suit. His eyes flickered around the room, peering over the rim of his glasses with a hawkish intensity that left everyone present feeling a little nervous. Everyone knew that the asset was dangerous—a killing machine—but Pierce was the worst kind of dangerous. He was entirely agreeable until the moment suited him, and when it did he was ruthless, cunning, and utterly without remorse. He strolled forward until he was only a few feet from the the asset, admiring the shaggy, hulking mass of a creature strapped to the chair in front of him like it was a show horse. Its metal arm glinted in the harsh fluorescent light of the compound and its considerable bulk heaved with exertion. The mind wipe always did seem to take a particularly brutal toll; Pierce felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips at the thought. The asset cracked its eyes open, blinking a few times before focusing on the man standing in front of it.

Assessing him.

"It's about time." Pierce quipped, flashing a winning smile that did not reach his eyes. It remained silent and glared off into the back of the room, eyes fixating on the red HYDRA symbol painted on the wall. Pierce didn't expect it to answer. It rarely did after the mind wipe, and if it did they were obliged to run the program again. Sometimes he wondered if it kept silent out of obedience or fear; he never could decide which. Pierce sucked his teeth and gestured lazily to the agent next to him, rolling his eyes as the man thrust the asset's red, leather-bound book into his hands with barely concealed anticipation. He opened the book and skimmed over the words on the page, allowing one last glance at the waiting asset before beginning.

" _Zhelaniye....rzhavvy....semnadtsat'..._ "

The effect was immediate. The asset's breathing grew heavy as the words echoed harshly off of the concrete walls, its chest heaving and its nostrils flaring. Pierce didn't miss that its hands had balled into trembling fists. The metal plates on its left arm shifted and whirred, mimicking flexing muscle.

" _Rassvet...pech'...devyat'..._ "

The asset let out a deafening roar as its head slammed back into the chair, eyes wide and feral as they glared up at the ceiling. Its arms jerked at the restraints holding it down—the thick cords in its neck popping out under the strain—and the chair began to creak and groan in protest. At the back of the room, a few of the lab techs shifted nervously at their stations. 

" _Dobroserdechnyy!_ " He bellowed over it, his lips twitching up into a grin as it snarled like an animal, " _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu! Odin! Gruzovoy vagon!_ "

As the last word left his mouth the room fell silent and everyone's eyes fell on the asset, watching as its breathing slowed and its fingers flexed almost tentatively. 

" _Soldat?_ " Pierce barked, his hand on his hip expectantly.

There was a slight pause before the Winter Soldier cut through the silence, its voice as hard and cruel as a serrated blade. 

"... _Gotovy soblyudat'_..."

"Excellent." He replied, closing the book and handing it off as he spoke, "Your mission is elimination of four targets by any means necessary. These are high priority and failure is not an option. Names are Nicholas J. Fury, Natasha A. Romanoff, Steven G. Rogers, and Y/N L/N. We have intel on their locations and movements, as well as intel on what kind of resistance you can expect. We want this mission done quick, Soldier...eliminate anyone who gets in your way."

The handlers released the asset from its restraints as he spoke, and it stalked passed Pierce to the table at the back of the room. There were four, labeled, black folders lined up—each containing photos and gathered intel for the mission. The Soldier thumbed through the pictures, its eyes scanning over each face with a dark and calculating glare. 

" _Ponimat'_..." It muttered, staring down at the picture of Rogers and L/N. _Understood_. Pierce's phone buzzed loudly, breaking the silence in the room as he fumbled around in his jacket pocket. The caller ID flashed the name across the screen— **Fury, Nick**. He frowned down at the phone, glancing over the Winter Soldier before turning on his heel and striding out of the room. As he turned his back he missed the Winter Soldier's brow furrow in mild confusion, its eyes flickering between the two pictures with a mission compromising expression.

Recognition.

***

The sound of explosions and gunfire echoed behind me as my feet slapped against the pavement, my mind still reeling from the shitty turn this day had taken. This morning I was making jokes with my friends during training, and then the next thing I knew I was being taken into protective custody by Captain-fucking-America and the Black Widow. Five seconds later we were driving down the highway, and then _BAM!_ before I had time to breathe we were in the middle of a goddamn war zone. When Steve had ordered me to run, I'd turned tail and bailed as fast as my legs could carry me—dodging panicked civilians and weaving through the cars that'd been left running in the street. I'd seen what was hunting me; I'd watched it get thrown from the roof of a car and skid across the highway at 80 miles per hour before standing like it had fallen from a bicycle.

I knew at that moment that I was severely outclassed here. I wasn't a super-spy, trained in combat like Natasha, and I sure as hell wasn't a super-soldier. I'd only just scratched the surface of my training with S.H.I.E.L.D.—meaning I was the weakest link and I was going to make damn sure to put as much distance between me and that thing as possible. Every breath I sucked into my lungs left my chest burning and my leg muscles were practically screaming for me to stop, but there was no time to rest. The hail of gunfire behind me was still much too close. I felt my stomach lurch with dread and fear as my legs pumped harder, trying desperately to put more pavement between me and the battle. What made me think I could outrun the Winter Soldier? Shit...I needed a plan. My feet slid across patches of loose gravel and chunks of old asphalt as I abruptly swerved into an alleyway on my right, eyes scanning frantically for a way to get out of the open. If I couldn't outrun him, maybe...just maybe...I could hide. My eyes landed on a low hanging fire escape ladder leading up to one of the abandoned buildings lining the alleyway.

_Bingo._

I heaved myself onto a dumpster and leaped up onto the rusted ladder, praying the damn thing would hold my weight as I scampered up the creaking rungs. Another explosion split the air followed by terrified screams. It was close—close enough for me to see chunks of debris rolling by the alley entrance—and it took every shred of my self control for me to fight the panic welling in my chest. I was at the third floor now, and I didn't have time to climb higher. This would have to do. I kicked the glass from the fire escape window and crawled into what looked like an abandoned apartment building. Sprinting through the empty space, I wrenched open the door and ran down the hallway—twisting the door handles and praying to any god who was listening that one was unlocked. Finally, the door at the end of the hall gave way, and a relieved whimper tumbled from my lips as I slipped inside and closed the door. 

The room was empty, but had obviously been occupied by squatters. Trash littered the floor, a few pieces of makeshift furniture were scattered about, and a moth-eaten couch that I presumed had been left behind by the last tenants was pushed against the wall. Piles of ratty blankets were tossed in the corners and there was a rusted barrel pit in the center of the room. I made my way into the other room, intending to slip down the fire escape and hightail it out of the city, but as I yanked on the window I felt my gut wrench with horror. The window wouldn't budge. I strained as hard as I could—blinking through the desperate tears welling in the corners of my eyes—but it seemed my luck had run out. Should I break the window again? Could I risk giving away my position if he was down there searching?

Down the hall I heard the unmistakable thud of boots, answering my questions for me.

Fuck.

Snatching my gun from my holster, I flipped off the safety and crouched down into the closet—leaving the door cracked ever so slightly. I could just make out two voices speaking lowly in Russian in the hall, and I closed my eyes and counted backwards from thirty.

_Thirty...twenty-nine...twenty-eight...twenty-seven..._

A sudden slam damn near made me jump out of my skin, and my hands trembled as I realized that the doors were being kicked down one by one.

_Twenty-five...twenty-four...twenty-three...twenty-two...twenty-one..._

Each slam grew louder and the scrape of boots grew closer and closer as I quivered in my hiding spot. Of course he would search the floor. I slapped my hand to my mouth and struggled to control my breathing, praying that he would give up and move on but knowing full well that he would not. 

_Sixteen...fifteen...fourteen...thirteen..._

A tear slid down my cheek and I swallowed a sob behind my hand. All the things that I'd taken for granted were flashing in my mind, rubbing salt in my wounds: _I should've called my mom yesterday like I'd promised instead of putting it off, I should've had lunch with my dad while he was in town rather than making excuses, I should've taken my dog to the dog park this morning and played with him more._

_Nine...eight...seven...six..._

The voices were outside the door now, and my heart was hammering so hard in my chest I thought it would burst.

_Three...two...one._

The door to the apartment burst open—the wood frame splintering and cracking as it fell off of its hinges and clattered to the floor. I could hear the panels of the floor creak as heavy bodies made their way over them, making no effort to keep silent. They wanted me to know that they were here...that I was trapped. The floorboards just outside my hiding spot groaned and I knew that it was only a matter of seconds until they found me. I couldn't see the Soldier from the crack in the door, but I could see an agent with an assault rifle reaching towards the closet slowly.

 _Maybe he wasn't here._ I told myself. _Maybe he was somewhere else and had these pricks out searching. Maybe I could fight my way out of this._ I grasped onto that sliver of hope and raised my pistol. If he was here I was as good as dead...and if I was gonna die, I was gonna get at least one of these motherfuckers. 

The closet door slowly swung open and I grit my teeth against the bile rising in my throat. The agent didn't even have time to react. I fired as soon as I saw him, squeezing off two bullets into his face and kicking my way out of the closet. There was a slam and a glint of silver from the other room, killing any hope I had of fighting my way out. Instead I aimed my pistol at the window and shot out the glass. _I'm gonna make it_ , I told myself. _I'm gonna make it_. I leaped for the window and the waiting fire escape only to feel myself wrenched back by a firm grasp on my jacket. Before I knew it, my body went flying sideways into the dry wall on the other side of the room, knocking the wind out of me and leaving my head spinning. I landed in a crumpled heap of flailing limbs, rotting drywall, and dust, and I could hear my pistol skitter across the floor out of my reach. Black spots clouded my field of vision, and something warm and wet started dripping down my face from my hairline. The coppery tinge of fresh blood filled my mouth and welled passed my lips.

It took every last bit of my strength to push myself up to a sitting position, leaning against the wall as the world around me spun uncontrollably. When the air finally rushed back into my lungs, I drew each breath with a desperate, ragged gasp followed by a fit of heaving coughs from the dust. I could make out a shadowy, hulking figure as it crouched down level with my face and I felt a twinge of outrage. Was I that pathetic-looking? Pathetic enough for this asshole to gawk at me like a goddamn science experiment? The unmistakable silver glint of that metal arm pierced through the fog in my vision and I felt the rage burn even hotter, spreading all the way down to my fingers and the tips of my toes. I grinned weakly and spat a mouthful of blood at the Winter Soldier's boots.

"Well...what the fuck are you waiting for?" I hissed. "I haven't got all day."

The cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against my forehead and I let my eyes slide shut in resignation. I waited for the bullet to rip through me, appreciating the feel of the air in my lungs and the strong beat of my heart in my chest; I told myself that there are worse ways to die. That I was at peace with this death. When the hit came, it caught me off guard. Instead of hitting my forehead, the blow came from the right and slammed into my temple. My body slumped over and darkness began to take me. Was this death? As I let myself slide into unconsciousness, a string of murmured Russian cut through the haze...and this time I could understand it.

" _Kto my, Malen'kiy Shpion?_ "

_Who are we, Little Spy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just an idea that I haven't been able to shake lately, so I'm inflicting it on the rest of you nerds. Thank you for reading and don't be shy--comment and let me know what you think! Any type of love is always welcome.


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